“And my god, Josie, there are Oreos on the kitchen table. Getting divorced is one thing, but letting yourself go altogether is another. I refuse to sit around and watch you throw away your life like this.”
I should’ve taken a pain pill this morning to prepare for the headache I will get after a few minutes with my mother. If only she had warned me, I would have refrained from answering the door and spared us both the trouble.
“I doubt a few Oreos will be the demise of my life, Mother.”
She clicks her tongue again. “That’s what you think. A few Oreos here, and then you’re eating pizza for dinner there, and before you know it, you’re on drugs.”
Please, Lord, don’t let her see the pizza box of leftovers in the fridge.She’ll have me in pepperoni rehab.
This is why I don’t invite my mother over more.
“Isthis the only bottle of Pine-Sol you have?” My mother peeks her head out of the kitchen, sloshing back a half-full bottle of brown liquid.
I nod. “Won’t that be enough?”
I’ve only washed the floors once since living here, and the kitchen’s not that big. The bottle should be plenty.
“It will have to do,” she says going back to her job of scrubbing the kitchen floor.
By hand.
I’m sure she saw a crumb down there from the previous renters, but now she can go to all her friends back home and tell them how she saved my life by cleaning my kitchen floor. Thank god she’s not on Instagram. She’d post before and after shots.
I will go insane soon if she doesn’t leave.
It’s been almost two hours since Nate went to the hardware store and he hasn’t come back. I’m starting to worry he picked up word my mother is here and knows to stay far, far away. He’s a deserter in my biggest time of need.
“Where’s your required bottle of bleach,” she calls from the kitchen.
I swallow, knowing she won’t like my answer. “I use less abrasive products now that I have Emma.”
It’s not above my daughter’s thought pattern to lick the kitchen floor, so I buy cleaning products that won’t make me scared if she should get a small sampling. At least I try to use them when I clean, which isn’t all that often, but no way in hell am I telling my mother that tidbit of information.
The door opens and closes as Nate comes into the apartment like he’s running from something on the other side. “I’m sorry it took so long, Josie. The hardware was full of women and everyone was asking questions of Hank so I couldn’t figure out where the nails were. I swear that place isn’t put together in any logical order whatsoever.”
Nate continues to rattle on, not noticing my open-mouth shocked-faced mother holding a bottle of Lysol standing at the edge of the kitchen.
“What is this? Why is this man in your apartment, Josie?” My mother stares at me like he’s here to rob us. As if having a man near me is the worst thing she’s heard all year. Obviously, she’s forgotten the Oreos.
“Mom, this is Nate. Nate, my mother,” I say, like everything is fine and the situation isn’t crazy at all. I turn around and go back to the TV, trying to pretend that entire side of the apartment doesn’t exist anymore.
“Well, what is Nate?”
Nate sputters. “I’m her boyfriend.”
I whip my head back around, trying to give him a “what the hell are you doing” look, but his smile is as large as the Cheshire cat. He must think it’s another fun game like the one he played with Barry, but he’s never met my mother.
She leans her head back and laughs. “Josie would never date a man who wears jeans.”
Everyone’s eyes fall to the dark-washed jeans that hug Nate’s legs and ass so well. I swear even Emma takes a second to admire. I don’t know where my mother gets her crazy ideas, but Nate and a pair of jeans go together like peanut butter and jelly.
“Mother!” It’s one thing for her to make ridiculous comments when she’s alone, but not in front of someone — especially Nate.
But as usual he doesn’t act the way I expect him to. Nate’s smile gets bigger as he saunters over to the couch and leans down over the armrests, giving me the biggest kiss I’ve ever experienced.
His lips are warm and after the first second passes, where I worry he’ll pull away but he doesn’t, I grab onto his shirt getting him closer. The sensation of him against me warms my body, and my heart stops beating, trying its hardest to remember each and every second of this moment together. It’s a kiss unlike anything I’ve ever felt — one of those kisses you know you can only experience once or twice a lifetime. One I never want to end. If possible, I’d spend an afternoon kissing Nate. His breath fills my empty soul as his lips move over mine with sweet possessiveness.
But as all good things do, this kiss ends when my mother clears her throat loudly. “Excuse me,” she says before going speechless.
